Destiny
by ellie-kat89
Summary: Stephanie’s having nightmares and it prompts her to tell Ranger how she really feels, before it’s too late. Babe fic.


**Title:** Destiny  
**Fandom:** Stephanie Plum  
**Pairing:** Ranger/Stephanie  
**Rating:** Teen  
**Summary:** Stephanie's having nightmares and it prompts her to tell Ranger how she really feels, before it's too late.  
**Word Count:** 1565  
**Notes:** Inspired by the sneak peek that Janet Evanovich gave us of _Finger Lickin' Fifteen_. This is meant to be the end of that book (at least how I hope it's going to end) ;).

**Destiny**

Even though I was exhausted, emotionally and physically, I couldn't seem to close my eyes; sleeping would undeniably bring the nightmares that had plagued me the last two nights before and I didn't want to revisit them. Sometimes, even though it was only my imagination running wild, I could still feel the cold metal of the machete against my neck and hear the bullet that struck Ranger in the upper arm. He was fine, in fact he had seemed utterly unfazed by it, but that doesn't mean that it hadn't freaked me out. Seeing him shot and bleeding had taken me momentarily back to the Scrogg debacle. Even thinking about it now, fleetingly, in my mind's eye we were back in my apartment and he was bleeding out on my carpet.

I heard the locks tumble and jerked upright at the sudden sound, my heart beating frantically. I felt like such a wuss; generally my well developed denial skills would have pushed back the fear and I would be ignoring it, but this time the fear was very real. I felt the sudden tingle though that alerted me it was Ranger. I laid back down before he could come into my bedroom.

He stopped at my bedroom door for a second before crossing the room and taking a seat in the chair. I opened my eyes and was able to see his silhouette in the moonlight that was filtering in through my curtains.

"You should be asleep," he said.

I shrugged. "I can't."

Not opening me eyes, I heard him get up and felt irrational tears prickling at the back of my eyes… he was leaving already. But then I heard a rustle of fabric and turned onto my back to watch what he was doing. He was working off his sling, throwing it on the chair, before carefully taking off his shirt, the bullet wound in his right arm making it difficult.

"Do you want some help?"

"No, it's fine," he replied.

A few moments later the painted-on black shirt was gone and he was pulling back the sheet to crawl into bed next to me. He pulled me close and I moved so that I could lay my head on his shoulder; I took a deep breath and smelling the essence of Ranger and Bulgari, I settled down, my hand resting on his abdomen, just above the top of his black cargoes. His fingers stroked through my brown curls and I closed my eyes, the sound of his heart beat comforting against my ear; but no matter how safe he made me feel I couldn't sleep.

"Why can't you sleep, Babe?" he asked a few minutes later.

I sighed. "Nightmares, I keep having them."

His thumb stroked my neck where the blade had been, and I shivered, trying to burrow in closer to him.

"He can't hurt you anymore," Ranger uttered softly.

I bit my bottom lip and wondered what to say to him. "They're… not so much about that."

"What are they about?"

"_You_." He tensed immediately and I inwardly cursed, realizing how he had taken it. "You… getting hurt, I mean." Like I would ever dream about him hurting me.

"Explain."

I took a deep breath, my emotions raw and stinging from the lack of sleep. I had never been good at talking about my feelings and the only reason why I could tell him, what I was about to tell him, was because I was so tired. "I know I call you batman, but I know that you're not a superhero. Anything could happen to you—you could get hit by a drunk driver, be in a plane crash, or a bullet may get _too_ close the… next time." I took a deep shuttering breath, trying to ignore the pain in my chest as I fought back tears. "After Scrogg, that scares me more than anything."

"Why does that scare you so much?" he asked, his body still tense against mine.

I started absentmindedly drawing patterns on his stomach but his hand enveloped mine and I stopped.

"Doesn't the idea of dying scare you?" I asked, stalling.

"No."

"Does anything scare you?" I whispered, the silence in the room seeming oppressive.

"A lot of things scare me."

"Like what?"

He was silent for a minute and I began to wonder if he was going to answer when he finally spoke. "The idea of you dying, that scares me."

Then, he rolled me onto my back and he followed me, climbing on top of me; supporting his weight on his knees and on his good arm, he cupped my cheek, his thumb running lightly across my skin. Feeling his heat all around me, I shivered again and ran my hands over his arms, tracing his biceps and triceps. Even though he wasn't saying anything, I knew that he was waiting for me to tell him _why_.

I had been holding in that fact that I was in love with him for so long, accepting it, but at the same time not letting anyone see it, or know about it. I had hid it from myself even, until the moment when he'd walked into my apartment and Scrogg had shot him. Ranger hurt, again, had brought it all back, rushing to the surface. If something happened to him, and I had never told him, I knew that I would regret it for the rest of my life. He deserved to know.

"I'm in love with you," I muttered, closing my eyes, not wanting to see his blank face.

I felt and heard all the air _whoosh_ out of him liked he'd been hit; I assumed he was surprised. I was slightly stunned, I had been certain before that I would never be able to shock him like that.

"Open your eyes," he ordered quietly a second or two later and I did, meeting his black gaze.

He didn't look like I was seconds away from being shipped away to Mongolia, so I calmed somewhat. "I know that you don't feel the same way and that's fine, I know we'll only ever be friends, and that's good too; I just wanted you to know, I figured that you should—" I was cut off as he connected our lips in a heated kiss, stopping my babbling. I gasped into his mouth and I heard him groan as his tongue found mine.

Ranger kissed me for only a few moments before pulling away. I was breathing hard and I could feel him hard and hot through his cargos against my hip. "Let me show you how much I love you…." His head lowered again and he began kissing along my neck, his hand warm against my tummy as his fingers inched slowly upwards.

"In your own way though," I whispered, the words seeming to hurt so much more now that I had admitted my love aloud.

"No, Babe, in every way that counts—I made a mistake before, with you, and I'm going to fix it, if you'll let me."

I suddenly saw all the directions my life could go at that moment, and I knew my next words would likely decide the rest of my existence. I didn't want Morelli, not now, and ever since Scrogg I felt more and more like I was just leading him on, because I knew that I could never love him the way he needed to be loved. What would life with him be like? We might get married and maybe even be happy for a few years but I knew eventually that we would grow bitter towards one another; Morelli wanted me to change to fit into what he wanted, needed out of life, while I didn't want to change at all. But life with Ranger, I couldn't envision that. The future with him was mysterious, a dark hole that contained a million different possibilities. But I knew one thing, he wouldn't want to change me, and I didn't want to change Ranger either. I'd fallen in love with _him_ not an image of what I thought he might one day be; he was mysterious, dark, silent, and sometimes a little scary, but at the same time he was supportive. He didn't have to tell me he loved me, he showed me every time we were together.

"Show me then," I replied, deliberately spreading my legs and wrapping them around his waist.

He looked so intently down at me for a moment that it felt like he was gazing into my soul, studying me. When he kissed me, it was desperate, like his control was slipping and was afraid that I was going to change my mind, but when he loved me it was long and slow. When we finally fell asleep, our bodies pressed tightly front to back, I slept nightmare free the rest of the night. But it was when I woke up the next morning when I was at my happiest. He was still _there_. He hadn't left early, and he was still in my bed, naked, smiling his wolf-grin at me as he traced the swell of my breast with the tip of his finger. As long as I woke up every morning like this, I knew I could be happy with any future that destiny had in store for us.


End file.
